


In Her Eyes

by Mistress_of_Squirrels



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 01:32:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7825012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistress_of_Squirrels/pseuds/Mistress_of_Squirrels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of In Sheep’s Clothing. Hancock discovers the truth about his brother...and then realizes that wasn't the whole truth after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Her Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raiven_Raine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raiven_Raine/gifts).



> Thanks to raiven-raine for helping with the title. And by help, I mean it was all hers because I’ve been trying for two days to think of a title and came up with nothing, and this never would have even been posted without her encouragement in the first place. <3 you! 
> 
> Mind the tags. There's about a 60/40 ratio of plot vs smut here.

His face hadn’t changed since that day in the stands. He was missing the grin Hancock remembered so well, all teeth and triumph, but his eyes…those were the same. He couldn’t recall seeing that hard glint in them when they were kids, but it was there when McDonough watched, impassive, as the ghouls were dragged from their homes and beaten in the streets.

It hadn’t seemed like his brother then, and now John knew why.  

It wasn’t.

Knowing the truth should have made it easy to pull the trigger. A woman’s life was on the line, and that wasn’t his brother. The bastard making demands was nothing to him, never had been. The rumors were true all along, so he could just shoot him already and be done with it.

It wasn’t his brother, but damn if it didn’t look like him. Dead on, really. So close that his fingers remained frozen around his shotgun, his limbs locked in place.

Those underground assholes must have been real fucking proud.

Out of the corner of his eye Hancock saw Ying, a small dark shadow. She was talking to his…to the synth, trying to get him to let Geneva go. He couldn’t hear what she said over the dull roar that echoed in his ears, but it must have worked. The synth shoved his hostage toward them and now was his chance to end it before anyone got hurt.

Still, he hesitated, until a loud, resounding crack startled him into motion. He raised his shotgun but Mc– the synth was already falling, a growing patch of red staining the front of his suit. Ying looked up at him with wide eyes, something like fear flickering in their depths before it turned cold and glittering. Her mouth firmed, chin jutting in defiance.

“It’s not on you,” she said as she tucked her pistol back in her belt, her voice edged with steel. “Blame me if you have to, but it’s not on you.”

Hancock’s brow furrowed in confusion, but Ying was already walking toward Piper so he couldn’t ask her what the hell she meant by that. He decided it didn’t really matter right then and wandered outside to wait for her to finish up whatever she was doing. Leaning against a railing, trying to keep his head down, he patted his pockets for a tin of mentats and shook a few out, placing the chalky tablets on his tongue. Within a few minutes, he realized what a mistake that was. This was not one of those times he wanted to feel ‘intellectual’.

As his thoughts cleared, guilt settled in the pit of his stomach, cold and sharp as a blade. All the blame he’d laid at McDonough’s feet, and it hadn’t even been _him_. His own brother had been replaced. Hancock heard the rumors the same as anyone else and he hadn’t believed any of them. Hell, he couldn’t even say when it had happened.

All those grand speeches about sticking close to family and friends? Bullshit. He’d been in denial even as the words left his mouth. His anger, his hate, had needed a target. He’d needed a reason for running out on the only family he had left, but maybe by then, his brother was already gone. Maybe he would have noticed if he hadn’t been so busy chasing his next high.

_Coward, hypocrite, worthless…_

That familiar urge was back, a twitch in his hands, an anxious squirming in his gut that told him it was time to get the hell away. The same feeling had guided his hand toward his first hit of jet, directed his feet away from Diamond City for the final time, and led him to a coup that started in a musty basement and ended with glowing fire burning through his veins. Didn’t matter where it took him this time. All his excuses, all his attempts to justify, to convince himself he was more than someone that stood by and watched, fell flat.

He hadn’t just stood by when his brother was taken, he hadn’t even known. All these years, he’d been hating the wrong guy.

Hancock gripped the rusted metal of the railing, gnarled and pitted skin stretched tight over the knobs of his knuckles as he let out a shaky breath. Running was out, even if he could get far enough. He’d made a promise, and he wasn’t leaving one of the only good things he had left in his life, no matter how strong the instinct was.

His fingers tightened until the faded paint flaked into jagged bits that cut into his palms. The sting was distant; there, but not important. After all the shit he’d tried, a little rust wasn’t going to kill him. He didn’t even feel it when a small hand covered one of his, the dirty nails ragged and bitten to the quick.

Ying didn’t say anything, wasn’t even looking in his direction when he glanced over, her eyes fixed instead on some distant point below them, but her fingers tightened around his in a brief squeeze. It was enough to relax his grip on the rail, the blood rushing back in with a pins and needles sensation as he flexed the stiff joints. When she let go, Hancock reached out and caught her hand, brushing his lips against the tips of her fingers. She met his eyes then, and he tried for a grin, but the line between her brows only deepened.

“Let’s go home,” she said quietly. “I’ve had enough of this place.”

Like hell was he going to argue with that.

 

* * *

 

Between gossip from caravans and the radio station, it didn’t take long for news of Diamond City’s mayor to spread. The Institute’s involvement didn’t seem to matter. McDonough’s policies towards ghouls hadn’t  made the man any friends in these parts, and he wouldn’t be missed.

Hancock understood. The Institute was untouchable, but McDonough was a symbol of everything Goodneighbor stood against. A lot of folks here still remembered being thrown from their homes and he couldn’t hold it against them for finding satisfaction in the bastard finally getting what was coming to him. How many times had he imagined getting revenge? More than he could count, especially as one family after another just disappeared into the ruins. No, he got it, but it only made him feel worse.

Couldn’t call it justice when the real McDonough had been gone for who knew how long, when Hancock didn’t even know if it was his brother’s idea to run for mayor in the first place.

Ying tried to talk to with him about it. Once. She seemed as relieved when he brushed her off as he was when she dropped it, but he could tell his moods were getting to her. He’d catch her sneaking looks at him when she thought he didn’t know, her mouth twisted in a troubled frown. He knew her, could almost see the wheels turn as she tried to figure out how she could help. Action, that was Ying. She wanted to do something. Problem was, there was nothing she could do.

She told him she was heading out a few days later. Railroad stuff. Needed to check in with HQ or something. He came close to asking her not to go, hit by a sudden fear that maybe him staying put wasn’t all there was to it. Ying was no stranger to running herself. She said she’d be back though, and she hadn’t gone back on a promise yet. Didn’t stop the worry, but it was something to tell himself.

He tried to drown the guilt in a haze of chems while she was gone. It didn’t help, but _fuck_ did he try. No matter the drug, the high just didn’t feel right. Jet gave him the jitters, Med -X left him sick, buffout left him with a headache that made him want to claw out his own eyes, and he damn well knew what his ride of choice would get him.

Fahrenheit was as sympathetic as Fahr knew how to be, but she got tired of his shit real fast. On the third day, she thrust a revised trade agreement at him with an order to ‘get his head out of his ass’ and left. Hancock made a rude gesture at her back, gritting his teeth as the sound of the door slamming behind her seemed to vibrate through his skull.  He tossed the papers on the desk and flopped down on one of the couches, tipping his hat over his eyes. He’d get to it. Eventually.

He must have dozed, because the next thing Hancock was aware of was voices drifting up from the square below. He sat up, groggily rubbing at his eyes and then crossed the room to peer out a window, squinting at the sun’s glare on the smudged glass. If he tilted his head at just the right angle, he could make out Ying’s small form standing beside Deacon, their dark heads close as the two talked. He perked up at that, relief mingled with a small thrum of excitement. She was back.

Hancock watched them, turned so that anyone looking up wouldn’t see him standing there, spying like a creep.  After a few minutes, Ying touched the spy’s shoulder in a gesture of farewell and headed for the steps of the Old State House. He heard the thud of the door downstairs, her light steps as she ascended the spiral staircase. The scuff of her boots on the worn planks of the floor halted just outside as she paused, and damn, that bothered him. It couldn’t have been more than a handful of seconds, but Ying wasn’t one for hesitation.

“Hey,” she said, closing the door behind her. The grin she gave him was uncertain, and he hated to think he might be the reason for it.

“Hey,” he echoed, suddenly not sure what to say. It was good to have her back, there was no denying that, but hell if he knew why it was so damn awkward. “Finish what you needed?”

Even now, with just the two of them, he didn’t dare name names. Diamond City pretty much proved the Institute could be anywhere.

Ying’s grin faded. “Yeah,” she shrugged. Her eyes darted to the floor and she shifted her weight from one foot to the other in an odd little shuffle. Her lips pursed as she struggled to make up her mind about something and thinned when she finally did, her jaw tightening in that stubborn set it got whenever she needed to do something unpleasant.

 _Shit_.

“I helped Tom build a program before I went to the Institute that first time,” she began, still not meeting his eyes. She shrugged again and waved a hand. “More like a virus, really, but that’s not important. We’ve been downloading data from their network this whole time. All the little secrets they don’t want anyone knowing.”

Ying glanced up at him then, dark eyes filled with pride. She’d earned it, too. Her and Tinker Tom working together was something else. He didn’t understand half of the shit they went on about, but they knew their stuff. Between the two of them, they probably had enough to bury the Institute in it’s own dirty laundry. Didn’t explain why that hesitation was back, though.

She bit her lip and pulled a holotape from her pocket and started unfastening the clasps of her Pip-Boy. “I went back to see how much progress Tom had made with it. Hancock, you need to see this.”

Ying snapped the tape into the Pip-boy and held it out to him. He took the device from her, sending her a questioning look when he saw the title. _Infiltrator Unit: Mcdonough_. When she just stared back, Hancock knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere until he saw whatever was on the damn tape, so he loaded the entry and started to read.

He read it once, twice, again, until the letters were nothing more than a blur on the screen, but one line stood out, burned clear in his mind.

_Assuming the identity of Diamond City’s mayor…_

_…Diamond City’s_ mayor…

The ghouls, the violence and blood, the families that were just…gone…. All that really was his brother. Had to be. It happened the same fucking day he went into office. Just him making good on the shit he promised to get the vote. Not some pawn put in place by the Institute, then. At least, not then.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Did you know?” Hancock asked suddenly, hating himself for asking, but unable to keep the thought quiet. She’d been inside the Institute for days at a time, snooping every chance she got. She could have found something.

“Know what? That he was a synth?” Ying shook her head, slow and deliberate. “The data was encrypted, Hancock. Tom only recently managed to get some of it figured out.

“ I had…suspicions, but I found out for sure the same time you did.”

“Suspicions.”

“Suspicions,” Ying repeated firmly. Her brow dipped into a scowl before she let out a heavy sigh and closed her eyes. “You weren’t there,” she said, opening her eyes again. “He kicked me out, forbade me from coming back. A man died!  And then a couple months later, I’m walking the streets without so much as a word? No, that was all Father and his fucking experiment. He wanted to see if I would find him, and I needed access to Diamond City to do that.”

“You never said anything.”

“Would you have believed me?” Ying grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his desk and fumbled to get one lit. Hancock cupped his hand over the flame from the lighter to shield it from any stray drafts, and got a nod of gratitude for the gesture as she exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“You were convinced he couldn’t have been a synth,” she pointed out, perching on the edge of the desk. “And I didn’t have any proof.”

That was the lawyer in her. Always looking for proof, though even she admitted the definition had changed somewhat. ‘Easier to just shoot them now’, she said, but there’d been a few times where she’d held off, claiming there was more to the story. She was usually right.

“Look,” Ying sighed, stubbing out her cigarette in a chipped ashtray that really ought to be emptied soon. “This shit you’ve been beating yourself up over? It doesn’t exist. All the things you hated McDonough for still apply.”

Everything had changed and then changed again, until it really wasn’t that different, but the back and forth left his head spinning. Hancock still wasn’t sure how he felt about it all, but he knew how he felt about her. Ying had no love for the mayor of Diamond City; getting the truth had been for him. Delivered with the abrupt force of a hammer, ‘cause Sunshine didn’t do tact, but still her own way of trying to help.

Her dark eyes searched his face as she brought her hand up to rest against his cheek. “You still had your reasons, Hancock. That hasn’t changed.”

He leaned into the touch and her other hand came up to frame his jaw. He didn’t know who breached that last bit of distance between them, didn’t care as his mouth covered hers. It was Ying that deepened the kiss, her tongue tracing his bottom lip as her hands slid up his arms to his shoulders, pushing his coat back until it puddled around his elbows. He shrugged it to the floor without a thought as she tugged the tails of his shirt from his pants and skimmed her fingertips along his sides.

She pressed her lips to the corner of his jaw, tilting her head to flick her tongue against the rapid pulse in his throat while her hands roamed over his back beneath his shirt. Hancock was caught somewhere between cringing at what his skin must feel like to her, and saying to hell with it and losing the shirt to give her better access. He settled for kissing her again, one hand cradling her cheek while the other cupped the back of her head, fingers tangling in the long strands of her hair.

Her palms were rough and callused, but so hot against his skin it made him shiver as they slid over his stomach. When they moved lower, nimble fingers plucking at his belt, Hancock sucked in a breath and froze. They’d gotten a little hot and heavy before, but Ying had never quite taken it this far.

She didn’t seem to notice as she crossed her ankles behind his back to keep him in place so she could work the knot at his waist. Swallowing a groan, Hancock pulled back, gathering her wrists in a loose grip as he waited for her to look up at him.

“What’re you doing, Ying?”

“Trying to get in your pants,” she stated with a flat look. “Unless…” She dropped her gaze, suddenly still and unsure. “If this isn’t what you want, say so.”

He wanted it. _Christ_ , he wanted it, but before now, she’d never indicated it was something she wanted, too. That was fine with him; he knew her past – enough, at least. She’d been blunt while she told him, dismissive, even, but her eyes…her eyes had been hollow.  

He’d never known hate like what had welled up in him at the faceless bastard that put that emptiness there. He couldn’t change it, but he’d spend the rest of his unnaturally long life making sure he never saw her eyes like that again.

“I wanna know you’re sure about this, doll. Ain’t like it’s a package deal or anything.”

Ying smiled and pulled him closer, clasping her hands behind his neck. “I know,” she whispered against his lips. “I want this, John. I want _you_.”

His heart thumped hard against his ribs, and Hancock swallowed, his mouth suddenly gone dry as she undid the buttons to his shirt.

“Might wanna leave that on,” he quipped, only half joking. “Or wait for dark.

Ying held his eyes as she slipped the faded fabric from his shoulders. He couldn’t breathe, his body rigid as her gaze swept over his ruined flesh. She sent him another smile, more tender than any expression he’d ever seen from her, and leaned forward to place a trail of kisses along the ridge of his collarbone. The breath he’d been holding left him in a rush as he tipped her chin up and brought his lips to hers. He broke away, and for a moment, all he could do was hold her, his face buried in her neck, her scent washing over him. She brought her arms up to cradle him against her, letting out a little gasp when he nipped at her throat.

Her hands dropped, nails scraping against his ribs as she leaned her head back, arching against him. His name was a breathy sigh from her lips as he palmed her breast. He relished the way she squirmed, bottom lip caught between her teeth as he teased the nipple into a hard bud.

She grew impatient then, grasping the hem of her tank top to pull it over her head and fling it behind her. Hancock grinned down at her. It wasn’t the first time he’d caught a glimpse - Ying didn’t really get the concept of modesty - but it was the first time he could let his eyes linger without feeling like a creep. He took a minute to do just that, running a finger down her chest, and watching in fascination as goosebumps erupted across her flesh.

Ying guided his head down, rewarding him with something between a sigh and a moan when he flicked his tongue across one dusky peak and then the other. Her hands were back at his belt, nostrils flaring in irritation as she once more fumbled with the knot of his sash. He moved to help her, dropping the tattered flag to the floor. She stared at him, pupils blown and eyes nearly black as her hand slid inside his pants, slender fingers wrapping around his cock. His breath caught in his throat, hissing between clenched teeth that weren’t quite enough to hold back a strangled moan. She pumped her hand a few times, lips quirked in a wicked grin, and Hancock decided two could play this game.

He pulled her zipper, agonizingly slow, and Ying was only too happy to cooperate, lifting her hips as she shimmied out of her jeans. Hancock ran the pads of his fingers up the inside of her leg, teasing at the juncture of her thigh before switching course and gliding up and over her hip. Ying bucked and writhed beneath his touch, nails biting into his forearm as she tried to direct the motion of his hand, but he wasn’t ready to give in. Not yet. If they were going to do this, he wanted it to be right.

Dropping to his knees, Hancock held her thighs apart as he leaned in to swipe his tongue across her folds. Ying’s entire body went taut. She cast a questioning look at him and then threw her head back when he repeated the motion, eyes fluttering closed as her mouth fell open in a wordless gasp. Her hands gripped the edge of the desk so hard her knuckles were white as he lapped at her. She hooked her legs over his shoulders, fingers twitching at his scalp, and for the first time in a long time, he regretted the loss of his blond locks.

What would it feel like, to have her tugging at his hair, lost in the throes of pleasure?

Ying keened, chest heaving, and he decreased the pressure of his strokes, careful to keep her balanced on the edge. Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted to keep this going as long as he could, prolong all her little whines and whimpers.

Hancock slipped a finger into her heat, curled it towards him as he gave another broad swipe of his tongue. Ying’s trembling thighs clamped tight around his head, her hands knocking papers and a couple empty inhalers to the floor as she scrabbled for purchase. He added a second finger, thrusting in time to the motion of her hips before suddenly pulling out. Ying sat up to glare at him, and Hancock couldn’t hold back the smirk pulling at his mouth.

“Patience, doll.”

Her dark eyes promised murder as he got to his feet and made a show of licking her slick off his fingers. Hancock captured her lips in a deep kiss as he settled between her legs, shifting his weight from one foot to the other so she could shove his pants down around his hips.

“Quit fucking around, John.”

There was a warning in her voice, which Hancock cheerfully ignored. Ying had an urgency about her that he wanted to quell. She had a kid, for fuck’s sake, so she wasn’t lacking experience,  but it made him wonder if anyone had actually taken their time with her. He no longer doubted that this was what she wanted, but she seemed so eager to get on with it. There was so much he could show her, if he could only get her to slow down.

Brushing his knuckles against the sharp curve of her jaw line, Hancock kept the fingers of his free hand wrapped around the jut of her hipbone to keep her still while he explored her mouth all over again. Ying tried to hurry his pace, wriggling against him, but when he wouldn’t be budged, she relented with a throaty groan.

He reached down to part her curls and circle her clit with feather-light touches, running his free hand up her back when she buried her face in his shoulder. She clung to him as she clawed at his back, her breath coming in ragged pants as her hips surged against his hand and he added just enough pressure to send her over the edge.

Ying cried out, a wordless sound that echoed between them as she trembled in his arms. He coaxed her through the aftershock, not moving his hand away until she slumped against him, limp and sated.

“Still with me, love?” Hancock chuckled, brushing the damp strands of her hair back from her face and placing a kiss on her forehead.

The taste of her was still sharp on his tongue, salt and something that was uniquely Ying. He did his best to ignore the twitching of his cock when she gave a languid roll of her hips, mouth curved in a dazed smile.

“Any plans to actually fuck me now?”

_Oh, he had plans._

Hancock entered her slowly, both to give her time to adjust to the intrusion, and to keep from embarrassing himself like an over-excited teenager. The latter proved more difficult than he anticipated; he must have imagined that moment a hundred times before in a hundred different ways. Now that it was actually happening and not just the product of his impure thoughts, it was almost too much.

Closing his eyes, Hancock touched his forehead to Ying’s and fought for control. She shot him a knowing grin and traced idle patterns along his arms, but was otherwise still. When he was ready, he set a lazy pace, watching her for cues. Ying bit her lip when he started moving, a low moan building in her throat. It wasn’t long before she matched his rhythm, and Hancock watched her face intently. Her eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted and curved in the faintest of grins. He’d never seen her wear such an expression of absolute bliss, and he wanted to memorize every detail.

He knew she was getting close again when her nails left reddened furrows in his arms and she let out a quiet stream of obscenities that went straight to his groin. Hancock huffed a strained laugh. He’d known she had a dirty mouth, but never anything quite like that. It was something they’d definitely have to explore the next time around.

Hancock reached down between them to find her clit again and Ying stiffened, her legs locked tight around his waist as she writhed against him, face twisted in rapture.

“Fuck, John! Fuck!”

He growled into her neck as she spasmed around him, fingers clamping around her hip with bruising force as she rode out her orgasm. His thrusts became erratic as the tension in his belly rose to an unbearable level. His vision went white as he buried his face in her shoulder and followed her over, wave after wave of pleasure washing over him.

Ying was watching him when he came back to himself. She still wore that same little grin, but her eyes were wary. He knew the look, had gotten pretty good at hiding it in the years since he’d become a ghoul. It was waiting for that uncomfortable silence when clothes were gathered and hasty excuses were made. It was knowing better than to expect any kind of intimacy after, but hoping for it all the same, and Hancock quickly added that look to his mental list of things he never wanted to see again.

She moved to hop down from the desk, already looking around for her discarded clothes when Hancock took her face in his hands and kissed her softly. When they broke apart, he turned aside to fasten the fly of his pants and grab his coat from the floor. He scooped her off the desk and into his arms, shooting an unapologetic grin down at her when she let out an indignant squeak. She glared when he set her down on one of the couches, but Hancock ignored it as he stretched out beside her and pulled his coat over them.

Ying curled into his side, and he draped an arm over her, sighing in contentment against her hair. If he had the choice, he’d stay like this forever. There was nowhere in the Commonwealth he’d rather be. “Love you, doll.”

She stilled and looked up at him, eyes wide and blinking. He saw her throat move as she swallowed and nodded, quickly looking back down. He was disappointed when she didn’t say it back, but she rolled closer and wrapped her arms around him, tucking her head beneath his chin. “I know,” she whispered against his chest.

She knew.

Running a hand through her hair, Hancock decided that maybe that was more important.


End file.
